


Impasse

by fractiouscow



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, F/F, Shady Ladies Doing Shady Shit, but for good reasons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-09-25 04:00:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9801746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fractiouscow/pseuds/fractiouscow
Summary: When Lex Luthor escapes prison for the nth time, certain pragmatic badass females start thinking it's time to wrap up his tired storyline.





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

 

Lex Luthor escapes prison before dawn on a Tuesday while being moved - for some unknown reason - to a new Supermax prison. His henchmen kill eight federal penitentiary guards and six U.S. Marshals. Security camera footage from the wrecked armored transport shows Lex laughing and waving his middle finger at the lens before jumping from the truck and vanishing.

 

“How the hell did this happen?” Alex Danvers asks, glaring at this paused image twenty minutes later. Arms akimbo, her index finger brushes the butt of her pistol. No one in the DEO control room has a satisfactory explanation, and the Director sounds scarily upset, so no one responds.

 

“Don’t everyone answer at once!” she barks. “Okay, here’s a workable query: where did that bald psychopathic asshole disappear to? Get on it. Everyone. _Find him._ ”

 

Personnel scatter to their workstations and get cracking. At the lead terminal, Winn Schott’s fingers blur across a keyboard as he tasks satellites and sets up broad spectrum scanning for the usual Lex Luthor-slash-Cadmus signatures: radiation, explosions, Kryptonite, creepy push messages on broadcast channels, Kryptonite…

 

Alex orders a tactical team to post up at Kara’s apartment, then ducks into a quiet alcove and places a call to her sister. This news can’t wait for long, even though Kara is probably dead asleep. Supergirl worked very late last night subduing a score of violent aliens with Guardian and Valor, and she’s earned some rest. Alex clenches her fist, grinds her teeth, reminded again that Kara so rarely gets what she deserves.

 

The phone rings three times before a soft voice comes on the line, whispering. “Alex, whatever it is, can’t it wait? She just fell asleep -”

 

“Your brother just broke out again,” Alex says, simple and direct. “There was an unscheduled prison transfer. We weren’t informed, and he was inadequately guarded. Fourteen LEOs are dead. We’re ramping up for the search.”

 

The line is quiet for several moments. Lena takes a slow breath and exhales shakily, her breath stuttering into Alex’s ear. “Do you need her to come in?”

 

“Not just yet. We have no leads,” Alex admits. “You should pack a bag. When she comes in, you’ll probably be bunking here until this is resolved.”

 

Lena doesn’t argue. “Right, then. Good hunting.”

 

Alex wants to say that this will be the last episode of this overdone drama, that she will issue a shoot-on-sight order for Lex Luthor, that every federal agent and wetwork operator at her command will be authorized to end his murderous reign with extreme prejudice.

 

But Lena doesn’t need to hear that Alex is planning to kill her brother. And Kara really doesn’t need to hear it. Alex will gladly bear the professional and personal consequences of her decision if it means Lex never kills another innocent person, never again threatens her sister’s life and happiness.

 

“I’ve sent a tac team to cover your building, so sit tight for now,” Alex says instead. “Please tell Kara to keep cool. I’ll update you soon.”

 

^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^

 

Lena slips the phone into the nightstand drawer. She reaches toward the foot of the bed, where Kara has kicked all the covers, and pulls a sheet up to her chin to fend off a sudden chill. Lena’s bare skin has turned to gooseflesh and her heart thuds loudly, suffusing her entire body with the chemistry of terror. Beside her, face down and starfished across two-thirds of the bed, Kara stirs a little.

 

If Lena can’t get herself under control quickly, Kara will hear that galloping heartbeat, will smell her fear, and she’ll wake up in a panic. It’s happened before; Lena had several vivid nightmares last year about her mother’s death, repeatedly reliving the moment when Lillian smiled up at her while plummeting from the L-Corp roof. Lena often screamed herself awake only to find she was safe, held in strong arms, caressed and soothed as Kara wept against her hair.

 

Meditation has helped, and she carves out time for the practice twice daily. She begins her breathing exercises, drawing in air slowly for eight seconds, holding it for five seconds, and exhaling for ten. Soon her racing heart slows to a normal rhythm. Tears rim her eyes and she rubs them away.

 

Lex is free. He’s killed again. He will, at some point, try to kill Lena. She is literally sleeping with the enemy, and their Luthor blood tie won’t mean enough to spare her life.

 

She knows Lex will have to go through Kara to get to her, that Supergirl will protect her right up to her dying breath…and that’s exactly what Lena fears most. She cannot and will not let that happen. Prison has never kept Lex in check for long; each capture and incarceration provides a temporary respite at best. When big brother makes his move this time, little sister will play for a terminal checkmate.

 

“Hey.”

 

Lena turns her head and finds Kara, face half submerged in a pillow, regarding her with one blinking blue eye. “Hey. Go back to sleep.”

 

The blue eye squints with suspicion. “You look thinky.”

 

“That’s just my face.” Lena brushes a fingertip over Kara’s eyelid, gently closing it. “Sleep, you.”

 

“You, too.” Kara catches her finger, gives it a little squeeze.

 

“I’m awake,” Lena says. “But it’s very early. I’ll just lie here with you for a while.”

 

Kara yawns and raises up on her elbows. “Sun’s up. Open the shutters. I’ll recharge in no time flat.”

 

Lena finds the remote and aims it toward the eastern wall, comprised of floor-to-ceiling reinforced panels without UV filters. The shutters rise and sun floods the room. Golden light sweeps across Kara’s bare skin and she practically purrs, drawing her shoulders forward, stretching kinks from the abused muscles of her back. Lena spreads her hand over a large green and purple bruise, rubs lightly, watches it fade like magic.

 

“What was that one from?”

 

“Utility pole. Giant gator-faced jerk bushwhacked me while I fought six of his jerk friends.”

 

Kara arches her back against Lena’s palm, seeking more pressure. Lena obliges by casting off the sheet and straddling Kara, settling lightly atop her ass. She strokes the heels of her palms, firmly, from sacrum to shoulders, digging into knotted tissues and rubbing in circles. Kara’s face drops against the pillow and she mutters something that sounds like _holy geez that feels good_ , and Lena digs in harder.

 

“Did they hurt you?” Lena knows the answer is probably ‘no,’ but she needs reassurance that Kara is durable, a survivor, well-nigh impossible to kill.

 

“Just the usual scratch and dent.” Kara grins over her shoulder. “Twenty percent off retail?” 

 

“Sold.” Lena tilts forward, pressing soft breasts against her lover’s bulletproof skin, kissing her cheek, biting her earlobe. “My unbreakable girl.”

 

In a heartbeat, Kara turns herself over and sits up. She regards Lena with darkened eyes and a question forming in her mouth.

 

“Yes,” Lena preemptively answers, nodding. “Please.”

 

Kara smiles and Lena feels a rush of _goodness_ \- endorphins, oxytocin, serotonin, dopamine - surge through her body in anticipation. 

 

Kara kisses her neck, her mouth, her breasts, and warmth blooms in every cell. Her eyelids flutter and close. Kara holds her waist, squeezes her hips, grips her ass, grinds her stomach against Lena’s sex, and adrenaline spurs a bold rush of heat. Kara bends her backward until Lena lays supine atop her legs, then reclines into the pillows and, with one tug, pulls Lena’s cunt to her mouth.

 

Lena cries out softly, palms her own breasts, and surrenders to the singular experience of being eaten out by a hyper-focused alien with low oxygen requirements. Kara’s tongue is a flowing ribbon against Lena’s skin, a silken thing of ceaseless and graceful motion, snapping rigid and plunging inside, circling and stroking her clit, rooting out sensation from every little fold. Lena feels like a breeze-borne feather, weightless and free for several long and merciful minutes. She grasps blindly at Kara’s head, fingers knotting in flaxen hair as she keens sharply through her climax, calling her lover’s name until the sounds break down to smiles and silence.

 

As her senses return, Lena opens her eyes and is only mildly surprised to find her nose mere inches from the ceiling. Kara’s body is a rigid, floating beam supporting her as they levitate five feet above the bed. Lena stretches her arms to the sides, dangles her legs in the air, and delights in the slow, easy aftercare - kisses and nips and licks - Kara provides.

 

“Kara,” she murmurs. “Beauty. Kitten. Cherie.”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“You’re flouting Newton again.”

 

Kara grins, smug and mischievous, and rests her chin on Lena’s mound. “Managed to miss the ceiling fan this time.”

 

Lena rolls her eyes, snaps her fingers and points to the bed. “Lobby, please.”

 

“Yes, miss.”

 

The descent is a prank of fits and starts, with Kara dropping rapidly and then slowing, over and over until they crash onto the mattress in a giggling heap. Lena barely gets her breath before Kara starts crawling up her body, raining kisses onto her skin, and wrapping her in a tender straitjacket of arms and legs.

 

“Good?” Kara asks, as if her attentions were ever less than profoundly satisfying.

 

Lena hums a confirmation. Mouth open against Kara’s throat, she feels the Kryptonian’s steady pulse tapping against her lips. She kisses the spot, blesses the life in her veins. The moment is damn near perfect. But it could be better, Lena thinks, and she wants to extend this beautiful fugue as long as possible before returning to reality. So she asks: “May I return the favor?”

 

Kara tenses and hesitates, stalling in silence. Which usually means she’s either not in the mood to receive, or she already maxed out her sex drive while making love to Lena. The protracted and vicious fight she endured just a few hours earlier also plays a part, although they’ve yet to fully explore why that happens, why Kara is too discomfited to receive affection close on the heels of dealing out violence. Lena has asked about it, has expressed a desire to understand. So when Kara is ready to talk about it, she will be waiting.

 

“It’s okay,” Lena assures her. “Whatever you want. Or don’t want. Always.”

 

The tension instantly bleeds from Kara’s body. She kisses Lena’s temple. “I love you.”

 

Lena smiles and says it back immediately, without effort, like a mirror reflecting light or a canyon returning an echo. It just happens; it just is.

 

The next words, however, require some genuine energy to push out. “Alex called just before you woke up.”

 

Kara chuckles softly. “Checking on me? I told her I was fine.”

 

Her heart rate starts to pick up and Lena reminds herself to breathe, deep and slow, until it eases off. She lifts her head, pulls away just enough to look Kara in the eyes. “Lex has escaped again.”

 

All the mirth drains from Kara’s face. Her brow crinkles and her jaw sets firm. “Did he kill anyone?”

 

Lena nods. Tells her everything. “The DEO is getting the search underway. Alex will call when they have news.”

 

“They won’t find anything. Not until he’s ready to show himself.”

 

“I agree.”

 

“We need to move you to the DEO bunker.”

 

“I know the routine by now. It’s okay.”

 

Kara clinches her fists against Lena’s back. Her embrace remains warm, but her eyes are unfocused, pale and cold. “This can’t keep happening,” she says. “If he comes here, I’ll…I will stop him. I won’t let him hurt you.”

 

There’s something jarring in her voice, a sharp red edge Lena’s never heard before. It reminds her that while Kara Danvers might be the kindest person in the world, Kara Zor-El is perhaps the most powerful being on Earth. Awakening her anger is probably not a great idea.

 

Between Alex Danvers (who would murder a mountain if it threatened Kara), Lena Luthor (same), and protective Kara with her temper flaring…Lex was probably safer in prison. Maybe he’ll head to Metropolis first and Superman can save everyone some trouble.

 

“I believe you,” Lena says. She taps Kara’s chin and recaptures her attention. “Same goes, you know. I won’t allow anyone to harm you.”

 

Kara blinks rapidly and swallows hard. She only manages half a smile. “Believe me, I know.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lex makes a move. There will be repercussions.

Lex visited Metropolis first.

 

Lena reckons the lure of his nemesis was stronger than that of his sister. Or, to use Winn’s rather apt portmanteau, his “nemesister.”

 

Despite receiving advance warning about the possibility of attack, Superman was taken by surprise. When the smoke cleared after a blitzkrieg of terror in Metropolis, the city’s most alien-friendly district lay in ruins. Over three hundred citizens perished in the attack, and Superman is missing and presumed dead.

 

In actuality Superman is comatose and on a ventilator twelve stories underground, surrounded by guards and sunlamps, attended for the past day and a half by a stoic Lois Lane and, occasionally, Kal-El’s devastated cousin.

 

The attack culminated in a classic killbox trap, well-planned and brutally effective, utilizing heavy ordnance and ionized Kryptonite gas to near deadly effect. Lena and Alex concur on this assessment during their nightly post-mortem session, now a routine where they dissect Lex’s movements and actions, drink ambrosial Japanese whisky in Lena’s temporary DEO office, and formulate strategies to keep their girl safe.

 

“Have you seen her today?” Lena asks.

 

Alex nods her head, sips at the 1967  Karuizawa. Mutters _holy hell_ under her breath, because this is literally the best thing she’s ever drunk. “She likes the lighter anti-K shielded suit, but she’s still pissed about the advance recon. Says it slows her down too much.”

 

Lena understands the hero’s frustration. Kara habitually rockets off to help at the first sign of trouble; she’s unaccustomed to driving with a governor on her engine. Now, every time there’s a police siren or a fire call, the DEO scans the area for potential dangers and traps before Supergirl is cleared to intervene.

 

“She hates the rebreather, too,” Lena notes. “I have been informed that my utilitarian design looks like Hannibal Lecter’s restraint mask.” 

 

It’s ugly, but effective, Lena explains. The last round of tests this afternoon showed zero ionized Kryptonite particulate penetration, and the titanium-framed rebreather - roughly the size of a large dust mask with retractable eye shields - has joined Kara’s ever-evolving Supergirl kit. 

 

“Use a different housing. Fit it into a Star Lord mask,” Alex suggests. “That’ll fix her.”

 

Lena snickers, sips her whisky, and offers her own suggestion. “Power Ranger, maybe?”

 

“Boba Fett helmet,” Alex counters.

 

Lena’s eyes light up at that prospect. She blushes and clears her throat. “How about Daft Punk?”

 

“Ooh! Yes! But which helmet?” Alex leans forward, angling her glass and her eyebrow as if Lena is being tested.

 

Lena scoffs. “Guy Manuel’s, obviously. We could color coordinate the LED display with her costume.”

 

Alex smiles and raises her glass. “We have a winner.”

 

They finish their drinks and move by mutual assent onto a far more serious topic: where and how might Lex strike next. Aggregated intelligence from the governmental and private sectors (some acquired through proper channels, some through bribes, some through blacker means) is parsed and discussed. 

 

Lena confirms that while Lex’s old weapons bunkers were all destroyed, he evidently has a new lab and fabrication facility. The technology he used to attack Superman was a variant of a Kryptonite gasification device discovered in Bunker #8, located beneath a South Dakota prairie, but the dispersal programming was new and improved.

 

They believe that Lex has not left the country. They believe he employs a small army of less than 50 highly trained Cadmus soldiers and a few hardliner anti-alien scientists. Many of these have been tentatively identified as persons of interest and flagged with BOLOs to law enforcement agencies nationwide. 

 

They believe that he will not attack the DEO directly, but will instead construct some leverage mechanism to force Supergirl and/or Lena to surrender, knowing that if he captures one the other will pursue and, presumably, fall into some well-laid trap. Hostages will comprise the fulcrum, they believe, the more vulnerable the better. Children are the most likely choice.

 

Lena suggests setting up a special panic code for schools, distributed through the Department of Education, to cut down on DEO notification and response time. “The faster word gets to you, the less time he’ll have to entrench. Even a minute could make a difference.” 

 

“Agreed. I’ll call Marsdin to expedite that order. She owes me,” Alex says.

 

Lena furrows her brow. “You’re surprisingly blasé about having the President in your debt.”

 

Alex offers a flat smile. “Hers isn’t nearly the worst secret I’m keeping. But if she wants my continued discretion, she’ll bend over backward to help us stop Lex.”

 

After an extended pause, Lena speaks in a low and confidential tone. “You never say _capture_. You always say _stop_.”

 

Alex holds still. Back straight and eyes steady. “And?”

 

“And,” Lena meets her gaze and nods, “all stories have endings. Should you need a co-author, or an editor, I am at your service.”

 

It takes a few seconds for Alex to process that Lena Luthor is offering to help kill her brother, or, at the very least, help Alex neaten up the denouement of Lex’s bloody tale. But possibly shielding Alex from an Oversight Committee with corroborative testimony is one thing; the subtext of her offer is that they might both have to lie to Kara about their actions - again. The hero’s forgiving nature is bounteous but cannot be taken for granted, especially when it comes to premeditated murder. 

 

“You shouldn’t get involved on that level. The risk is too high,” Alex says, shaking her head. “She loves you.”

 

“She loves _you_ ,” Lena counters. “And if it means keeping Kara alive and well, I will lie to her every day for the rest of my life. Lex must be _stopped_.”

 

“I just… ” Alex starts, and falters into a sigh. “Okay. Okay. Goddamn.”

 

Lena extends a hand across the desk and Alex grasps it tightly. The covenant is sealed. 

 

This arrangement with Alex Danvers is but one pact among several Lena has brokered over the past 36 hours. As Alex pours them each a second dram of whisky, Lena’s phone buzzes with a new encrypted text message from a sender identified only as “The Wall.”

 

_Terms accepted, contract confirmed. Awaiting your particulars. Welcome back to the game._

 

Trailing the text is a single emoji of a chess piece: the white knight. Within five seconds, the application eradicates all trace of the message and its sender.

 

Lena’s pulse is pounding, but her face does not betray that she has just struck a deal with a devil. She breathes in a calming rhythm, smiles warmly at Alex and accepts her refilled glass. They clink crystal and toast to their new concord, and to the extraordinary woman each loves to a fearsome degree.

 

They both understand the real miracle of Kara Zor-El: that she lost everything, felt the death of her family, her culture, her world, and instead of letting that pain crater her soul, she broke her heart wide open and took the whole Earth inside. She’s a girl who became a cathedral, a sanctuary presence in an age that sometimes feels bereft of mercy.

 

Whatever the cost of protecting her, they will pay in any denomination, be it gold, or servitude, or sin.

 

 

^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^

 

 

Supergirl floats in a bloodshot sky near the western edge of National City, drinking in the last red-gold rays of sunset at the proscribed “minimum safe altitude” of 4,500 feet. Safe, in this context, means that if some sneaky pete were to launch a Javelin missile at her from ground level, she should be able to evade the strike. 

 

Winn crunched the numbers, Alex gave the orders, and Kara now has an altimeter strapped to her wrist. It beeps if she hovers too long in the “danger zone” - a phrase Winn invariably intones like Sterling Archer - and becomes a sitting duck. 

 

Kara despises Lex Luthor for many reasons, the most petty of which is that he’s infested her superhero-ing routines with math.

 

His brutal assault on her last remaining blood kin is a more serious offense, one that will bring a reckoning in due course. Kal-El’s lungs were severely damaged, his eyes burned blind, but he will recover. Alex promised as much, and that makes it a foregone fact in Kara’s estimation. Clark will wake up and he’ll be okay. He’ll go home with Lois and help rebuild the Metropolis community he nearly died trying to guard.

 

He tried with all his might and still fell short, Kara reflects. It’s her greatest fear, failing the people she loves, failing all those who share her adopted homeworld, the humans and aliens whose lives apparently mean nothing to Lex Luthor. 

 

She stretches her senses toward her city, opens herself to a multiplicity of faces and voices, feels their energy coalesce from individuals to groups to a single entity, their dissonance transformed into music, an orchestral opus of life replete with laughter and joy and desperate, lonesome yearning. It hurts, glimpsing it all at once, and inspires a tenderness that makes her want to cry. 

 

Rao’s light never shone this evenly on the regimented citizens of Krypton. The people of her world never knew such freedom to explore their souls, to follow their dreams and hearts to bliss or folly. No wonder alien species flock to National City, to Metropolis, and - yes - even to Gotham City. Every sentient creature has the right to find their place of peace and happiness, and these Earth cities are shining citadels in the cold void.

 

Those who seek to dim the light of her city will meet supreme resistance, and they will lose. This is her home, these are her people, and she will not let them down. Kara clenches her fists and feels her tenderness gradually harden and sharpen until the corners of her vision are tinted red.

 

“ _Supergirl_?” Winn’s voice in her earpiece sounds frantic. “ _Bad news! Very bad! Multiple reports of hostages taken at Nat City Magnet!_ ”

 

Her heart seizes, stutters. The red encroaches from the periphery, glows, and pulses. Anger swells in her stomach and she wants to vomit. 

 

“ _At least a thousand students and families in the auditorium for a regional science fair. 911 callers estimate maybe thirty armed men on campus, four School Resource Officers killed -_ ”

 

“Is Lex there?” Kara asks, sounding almost calm, almost rational.

 

“ _No specific sighting reported, but -_ ”

 

“Who else could it be?”

 

“ _I wasn’t gonna say that._ ”

 

“Is Alex with you?”

 

“ _On the way up right now._ ” Winn’s voice drops to a desperate whisper. “ _Wait, Kara. Please wait._ ”

 

Kara goes quiet, calculates the risk to herself if she goes in alone. Measures that against the possibility of dead children. It’s the easiest math ever.

 

“Tell Alex to hurry,” she says. “I’m on route.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DC Comics stuff vaguely referenced here:
> 
> The Wall = Amanda Waller, who once headed up the government intelligence and black ops agency known as Checkmate. Kara's seeing red and wanting to rage-vomit? If the Lanterns like it then they gonna put a Ring on it. Not saying it's gonna happen here, but it did happen and would make an OUTSTANDING storyline for the show.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I've lost control. It's getting away from me, Fezzik. I'm shooting for four chapters now, Rao help me.

On that warm May night when Lillian Luthor fell to her death, there were four people on the L-Corp roof: Lillian, the cyborg Hank Henshaw, Lena Luthor, and Supergirl.

 

Lena remembers the sequence of events as blurry transitions between lucid moments. Supergirl and Henshaw brutalizing each other with fists and Kryptonite lasers and heat vision. The L-Corp helicopter exploding in the crossfire. Kara extinguishing the flames with freeze breath. Lillian yanking Lena’s hair and forcing her toward the ledge at gunpoint. Henshaw smirking at Lena, his laser eye painting a target on her chest.

 

Kara, instantly there, shielding her from the killing blast. Kara screaming and agonized, pushing forward in a blind rage. Ripping the cybernetic implant from Henshaw’s skull. Going quiet, aghast as his limp body slides from her grasp. Staring at the lump of blood and brain matter and metal trapped in her fists. Kara mercifully falling unconscious as a wave of toxic green radiation burst from the ruptured implant.

 

Lena remembers her mother shoving her aside and casually aiming her pistol at Supergirl’s head. Lena almost threw herself over Kara as a human shield, almost shouted at her mother to _please stop please don’t hurt her I love her_ , almost tried to bribe her with pledges of obedience and Luthor unity. Ultimately, Lena did none of these things.

 

Ultimately, Lena slipped off her heels, charged forward across sharp gravel and shoulder checked Lillian right off the roof.

 

Lena skidded to a stop on her knees and looked down. Lillian spread her arms. Her coat flared out like black wings. She smiled up at Lena, finally proud of her daughter.

 

In the immediate aftermath, Lena cycled quickly through exclamations of pain and anger, grave regret, and - to her enduring shame - sweet fucking relief. She doesn’t remember calling Alex, but Kara must have at some point because suddenly Alex was there, helping her haul a deadweight Supergirl to her private elevator and into a sleek black ambulance. Safely back in the DEO sun bed, Kara slept as Alex checked her vitals and Lena meticulously cleaned gore from her hands.

 

As they waited for Kara to wake, Alex prepped two generous pours of bourbon and offered Lena condolences on her mother’s “tragic suicide.” Rather gently, Alex assured her that DEO cleaners removed Lillian Luthor’s body and stripped her blood from L-Corp’s sidewalk before NCPD units even reached the scene.

 

“Figured we should get ahead of the story,” said Alex. “No need to make this any harder for you. Or Kara.”

 

Lena didn’t know how to respond. She stared at her torn stockings, the dried blood on her knees, until she felt strong enough to speak. “Lillian was a deeply troubled woman. Thank you for your discretion.”

 

Alex quirked a brow and tipped her glass toward Lena.

 

When Kara woke half an hour later, frantic and shaking, she examined her hands and seemed baffled to find them clean. The instant she saw Lena, safe and sound, tears welled from her eyes. Lena sat by her, held her, and Alex took her hand and told the tale of Lillian’s demise.

 

Henshaw, against all odds, survived. Alex relayed, to Kara’s great relief, that he suffered severe brain damage and and would require medical incarceration for the remainder of his life. Lena didn’t really believe this story, but there was no upside to questioning it. Over Kara’s shoulder, they locked eyes and tacitly agreed to follow these less problematic narratives.

 

Almost a year later, Lena Luthor again finds herself deploying desperate counter moves to thwart her family’s latest deadly offensive. She stands alone at the 18th hole of the National City Country Club, holding her windswept hair as an unmarked black helicopter lands on the fairway. Two passengers disembark and approach; a middle-aged woman in a navy suit and a well-built man in dark leather and body armor, his face covered by a white mask. She carries a slim valise. He, a hard-sided rifle case.

 

“Good evening,” the woman calls, her voice clear and strong over the helicopter’s noise.

 

“That’s a matter of perspective, Ms. Waller,” Lena responds.

 

“Most things are,” Amanda Waller agrees. She points a thumb toward her companion. “This is Deadshot.”

 

He slides his mask up and smiles at Lena. Cocks a hip and gives a two-fingered wave. “Floyd Lawton, at your service.” 

 

Waller takes a small sheaf of papers from her valise, hands them to Lena with a white Mont Blanc pen. “Sign and initial where indicated. Terms are unchanged from our previous contract, meaning you provide Checkmate with intelligence, consulting and analysis, mutual confidentiality on pain of death, yadda yadda yadda.”

 

Lena signs without reading, just as she did in college when Waller approached her with the offer of doing something to balance out Lex’s early forays into xenophobia and terrorism.

 

Waller countersigns the contract and gives Lena a firm handshake. “Welcome back, Lena. As per our verbal agreement, at his earliest opportunity, Deadshot here is gonna blow your brother’s goddamn head off.”

 

Lena winces and Deadshot does a double-take. “Jesus, woman! Why you gotta be so salty all the time? That’s her family. This can’t be easy -”

 

“She’s not gonna fuck you, Floyd.” Waller cuts off his attempt at chivalry, shouting potshots as she walks back to the chopper. “You’re good with a gun; her alien boo is bulletproof. Little honey can fly…see through buildings…probably shoot lasers out her pussy.”

 

Floyd’s eyes bulge comically. He adjusts his rifle case and clears his throat. “Supergirl got a laser pussy?”

 

Lena blushes and rubs at her tensed forehead. “That’s… a slight exaggeration.”

 

On the walk to Lena’s car, her phone rings and Winn gets her up to speed. Her heart immediately jumps into overdrive. She pushes the Tesla to its limits, speeding toward the scene of Lex’s latest crime, praying all the while for Kara to be careful and safe and - most of all - for her to _wait_.

 

 

^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 

 

 

Tucked into a quiet valley near the eastern edge of town, National City Magnet School boasts one of the highest achieving and most diverse student cohorts in the nation. Graduates regularly attend top universities worldwide, though in this uniquely focused learning environment, some teenaged mavericks are already burgeoning entrepreneurs before their diplomas are printed. Thanks to a rather large endowment from L-Corp, the sprawling campus is in the midst of renovations, with construction equipment and roofing material pallets hidden beneath discreet tarps all across campus.

 

On her first high-altitude pass over the auditorium, Kara realizes this siege has been planned for some time. She can’t see through the roof, and guesses that Lex worked through a subcontractor to pollute the new cool-seal undercoat with lead. She spies fifteen armed and armored soldiers stationed around the campus perimeter. The magazine wells of their rifles emit a faint green glow.

 

“Alex, you there?” she asks. There’s no response, so she checks and reboots her earpiece. “Alex? Winn? Okay, no reception on my end. Just in case _you_ can hear _me_ , the auditorium roof is leaded, so I can’t recon from up here. I see fifteen Cadmus guards with assault rifles and K-rounds encircling the campus, _soooo_ \- reinforcements? Yeah? Maybe? Right. Pretty sure I’m talking to myself.”

 

Her radio earpiece remains silent. Kara pulls her phone from her boot, finds there is no cell service, no wi-fi, no signal of any kind. Lex again, probably jamming all communications to slow police intervention and keep a lid on things until he’s ready to talk. But Winn said 911 received calls for help, so where did they come from?

 

Kara hears a tickle of motion below, peers down with X-Ray vision and sees a boy and girl hiding under a tarp-covered front loader. A Cadmus guard walks patrol less than fifty feet from their hiding spot. The boy clutches a pry bar, and the girl holds tight to a large crescent wrench. Kara can hear their hearts pounding. As the guard walks closer, they begin a whispered countdown from five, four, three…

 

“No. No, no, no,” Kara mutters, frowning over being pushed into action before she’s ready.

 

She mutes the altimeter, swoops down and drops a hammer fist atop the soldier’s helmet, rendering him very unconscious. She throws his rifle toward the mountaintop, yanks him into the sky and drops him into a thorny briar patch before the kids’ countdown hits one. By the time the students cautiously lift the tarp and peek outside, Supergirl is crouching beside them and giving the ‘shush’ signal. Their faces are the very picture of shock and near hysterical relief. In a flash, Kara has grabbed them by their jackets and flown up the hillside to a densely wooded thicket.

 

“You guys know what’s going on in the auditorium?” Kara asks, the instant they land.

 

The girl with the crescent wrench nods and runs a hand through her hair, which is long and royal blue on the left and shaved on the right, with a small bandage just above her ear. She pulls a phone from her oversized Army jacket and brings up a short video of a dozen armed Cadmus thugs storming through the science fair and herding students and parents against a wall. The camera angle is near floor level and partially obscured by a vent cover.

 

“We were in the service conduit running wire when the cocksquad busted in,” the girl explains. “They started cutting into a ventilation shaft right over our heads, so as soon as we had proof of what was happening, we bolted. Made it this far and got stuck. We called the cops and posted the video, like, _everywhere_.”

 

Kara points at the bandage on the girl’s scalp. “Were you hurt?”

 

The teen hesitates, then shakes her head. “No, I just… I got a new tattoo yesterday. It’s still healing.”

 

She peels the bandage off and Kara’s breathing hitches at the sight. Inked into the girl’s scalp is the red, gold and blue symbol of the House of El.

 

“Our whole class is torn up about Metropolis,” the boy explains. He unzips his jacket and shows a hoodie bearing the same symbol. “And we’re really sorry for you. About Superman.”

 

Kara feels her throat thicken and she gives a solemn nod. She wishes she could tell them that Kal is still alive, but knowing they care enough to wear her family’s crest, knowing these bright and brave children of Earth stand with her, means more than they will ever know. “Thank you,” she says, and briefly grips each kid by the arm. “So, how did you get 911? I can’t find a signal.”

 

The boy digs a boxy, homemade-looking smartphone from his jeans pocket. “Our junior year science fair project. We set up a network hopper with old aerials and satellite dishes from the A/V basement.”

 

“These guys jammed cell signals and cut land lines, but there’s a shit-ton of obsolete multimode fiber running under campus,” the girl says. “Guess Lex Luthor doesn’t know everything after all.”

 

“Thank Rao for smart rebels,” Kara says, and they both flush deep red. “Any chance I could borrow your phone?”

 

The boy offers it immediately, and Kara dials Alex’s DEO cell.

 

“ _Danvers._ ”

 

“Alex, it’s me - ”

 

“ _JESUS FUCKING CHRIST! WHERE have you BEEN?_ ”

 

Kara winces at her worried sister’s banshee-level shouting, then outlines her first-look recon. Alex assures her that DEO backup is perhaps five minutes away.

 

“ _Wait for us. Promise you’ll stand down until I get there._ ”

 

“I need to take another look around.”

 

“ _Don’t be evasive. Say ‘yes, Alex, I will stand down until you arrive.’ Say it.”_

 

“Drive safe, talk soon,” Kara says, and disconnects the call. She hands the phone over, smiles warmly in thanks, and asks for directions to the service conduit where the kids were working. They efficiently mark out a route in the dirt with their fingertips while Supergirl girds herself for battle.

 

Tapping a pattern across her crest, she triggers the third-generation active Kryptonite shielding Winn installed in her suit. From head to foot, she fairly hums with golden energy. From the folds of her cape, she retrieves a dark matte-finish metal mask and straps it over her face. Once powered on, it glows faintly orange. The girl gasps softly and the boy almost laughs.

 

“That is so rad,” he says. “Forget MIT, can we come work for you?”

 

Kara chuckles, because despite her teasing Lena about the scary rebreather mask, the new gear does look pretty badass. “Can’t promise anything. But if you want an internship, I _will_ put in a good word with my girlfriend.”

 

The pair excitedly clasp hands, grin at each other and silently mouth the word _L-Corp_.

 

“Sit tight,” Kara tells them. “I got this.”

 

She leaps skyward, vanishing into the dark and stars. The two awestruck kids stare up for a moment before the boy speaks.

 

“So…I’m probably gonna marry Supergirl.”

 

The girl snorts and leans against his arm. “Not if I marry her first.”

 

 

^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^

 

 

During one of their earliest training sessions at the DEO, Alex explained to Kara that it takes only 2,300 newtons of force to crack a human skull. For a being with virtually immeasurable strength, it’s a very fine line between killing a man and knocking him out. Kara hits that precise mark fourteen times in six seconds, flying an oval around the campus and clouting helmeted guards just hard enough to badly concuss and black them out for the night. It takes another ten seconds to discard their guns and deposit their bodies in the briar patch. She figures possible CTE and a few thorn scars are the least they deserve for being such utter fuckwads.

 

Breaching the auditorium’s now-unguarded basement entrance and creeping into the service conduit takes another five count. She folds her cape over her legs and silently floats along inside the pitch dark 30-inch square duct, scanning the ventilation shaft that runs parallel several feet overhead. Within moments, she finds the nasty surprise Lex installed there - a tank of compressed gas, likely the same ionized Kryptonite he used to attack Superman. The release valve is fitted with a remote trigger and attached to a thick rubber tube that runs up to the auditorium’s massive overhead blowers.

 

Lena once told her that Lex’s main weakness as a chess player was his tendency to fall in love with a particular offense. It made him predictable, easier to circumvent. The K-gas was too effective not to try again. Lena anticipated as much and built the rebreather mask, just in case Kara needed it. 

 

“My girl. So smart, so fine,” Kara whispers.

 

Kara retracts her mask’s eye shields and uses heat vision to open a small passage along the top of the service conduit. She floats up to the ventilation shaft, carefully peels a fist-sized opening in the galvanized steel, and reaches inside to pinch the gas tank’s rubber feed tube between her thumb and index finger. She presses it flat and uses a tiny beam of heat to seal it shut. She cuts power to the mask and K-shielding, going dark for stealth’s sake, and eases back down toward the small access grate where the kids observed Lex’s door-busting entrance.

 

From this ground-level viewpoint she sees masses of students and adults kneeling in a tight rank and file formation along the auditorium’s western wall, facing the stage. The judging table and podium sit empty. A manic Lex Luthor paces near the footlights.

 

She expected to feel a variety of intense emotions at this moment - the first sight of him after the Metropolis attack, after Kal-El, after nights of holding Lena as she trembled and wept for fear of this man, for love of this man - but Kara doesn’t feel much beyond anger.

 

Lex is within reach now, and she wants to get her hands on him. She imagines covering his mouth and nose and pressing a palm against his chest until all the air rushes out, until he’s crazed for oxygen and cannot draw a breath. Like Kal when she pulled him from the ruins, blind and terrified and desperate for air that would not come. Kara breathed for him, forced air down his throat, holding him and crying on the interminable cross-country flight home to National City.

 

Sweating and shouting at a lab coated henchman, Lex looks nervous, sounds nervous. And he should be nervous. At this moment, to Kara, Lex Luthor looks like a nail in need of a hammer.

 

“I don’t care if his arthritis is flaring! Give him his injection and get him out here right now! Time’s a-wastin’!” He turns his attention to his captive audience and taps the podium microphone. Murmurs circulate through the throng of hostages. “Ladies and gentlemen, ladies and gentlemen, your attention please.”

 

“Go to hell, Luthor!” a boy shouts. “You’re crazy!” a woman yells. “Superman Lives!” a girl cries.

 

Lex gestures to the nearest Cadmus guard. The burly soldier smashes his rifle butt against the temple of the nearest target, a skinny boy who drops like a stone. A cry of outrage sweeps through the hostages. The boy’s parents gather him in and hold him close, weeping and clenching their fists. Kara unconsciously mirrors their actions. She feels her skin getting hot, and that strange recurring red tinge creeps into her peripheral vision.

 

“Come, come, let’s not fight amongst ourselves, ladies and gentlemen! Not when there are far more deserving recipients for our choler!” Lex holds up both hands and the crowd, fearing more reprisals, quiets down. “Thank you so much. We appreciate your patience with these technical difficulties, but our program is now ready to begin and I must insist on COMPLETE! FUCKING! SILENCE!”

 

The murmurs cease entirely, and Lex seems appeased. He smiles and rubs a palm over his glistening scalp. “Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. I expect nothing less than civilized conduct from National City’s best and brightest youth, the innovation generation, our last hope for the future of humanity…”

 

Kara counts and recounts guards and positions. Four at the foot of the stage, four holding the hostages at gunpoint, two at the front entrance, one each at the fire doors.

 

“…tonight’s keynote speaker has traveled a great distance, from the mean streets of India to the plains of Kansas to this very stage in order to deliver a very important message, a message which I pray breaches the mind and soul of everyone in this room, for you are the ones who will carry this vital knowledge forward after I am gone.”

 

A slender old man with flowing silver hair shuffles out from stage left. He wears a green velvet tuxedo and holds a violin and bow. Kara has seen enough ridiculous outfits by now to recognize this man as either a low-rent Las Vegas casino act or a supervillain. Considering the company he keeps, the latter is most likely.

 

“Please welcome maestro Isaac Bowin!” Lex claps and waves, exhorting the hostages to join in until they issue a weak smattering of applause.

 

The old man steps to the podium, raises his violin, tucks it under his chin. He draws the bow across the strings, and the room resonates with a bright, energetic E-major. He speaks into the microphone, his voice melodic, mellifluous - _hypnotic_.

 

“Your family, your community, your way of life, the very fate of your world is imperiled by the scourge of alien - ” 

 

 _Oh, go fuck yourself!_ Kara thinks, as she powers up and bursts through the wall.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

As promised, within four minutes of Kara’s surprise phone call, DEO vehicles arrive and surround the campus. Operatives deploy to cover positions on high ground around the auditorium. Snipers nest in an offset triangular fire pattern, and these three dirtbellies have a unique set of orders: if Lex Luthor so much as peeks out of that building, he dies. If one makes a confirmed kill, they will hand their rifle to the Director and vanish. For the official record, Alex Danvers took that fateful shot and will bear the fallout alone.

 

In the Command and Control van, Alex tries in vain to reach Kara on comms. Winn readies a multi-scanner/camera drone only to find the signal crushed to noise by Lex’s jamming broadcast.

 

“Same as the satellite imaging. We’re blind - but not for long,” he says, and turns his attention to isolating the obstructing signal and engineering an overload.

 

With no word from Kara and little situational intel, Alex is well-past anxious and moving toward scared. “Come on, Winn.”

 

“Almost there. Okay, I found it! Oscillating disruptor with multi-band signal deflection - wow, that’s a good idea. Pinning it down.” Jaw clenched and eyes slitted, his fingers blur across the keys. “It’s cracking, just gimme…one…tiny…little… ”

 

“WINN!”

 

“…second…got it! Got it. It’s gotten.” He heaves an exhale, launches the drone and pulls up the camera feed. When the first aerial images stream in, Winn looks at the thermal imaging screen and taps his finger against a glowing orange tangle near the east edge of campus. “Is that a pile of people? Oh, man, that’s a people pile. Please let it be a pile of bad people.”

 

Alex directs Valor and a tactical team to investigate, and their body cams reveal the people pile as a stack of unconscious Cadmus soldiers. All reports indicate the campus exterior is clear of hostiles. Alex groans and rubs her eyes, because _of course_ Kara didn’t stand down. Of course she left a passel of enemy combatants haphazardly heaped in a briar patch. Of course she went into the auditorium alone.

 

Guardian and the second tac team bring in two excited students who relate their encounter with Supergirl, proclaiming her to be “dialed as hell” and actually a very sweet person. Alex, though furious, does not refute either point. As the girl and boy explain how they drew Kara a dirt map to the service conduit, more agents report major movement at the auditorium. Multiple cam feeds show streams of students, parents, and faculty shuffling from the exits, looking shell-shocked and dinged up but largely unharmed.

 

“Hostages are exiting! Teams One and Two, move in! Get those people away from the building!” Alex orders. “We’re gonna need medical and evac help.”

 

“FBI and NCPD are at the perimeter, with paramedics,” Winn replies.

 

“Tell them to prep for incoming. Help the injured but hold _everyone_. No one leaves the scene until we clear them,” Alex declares, then asks the billion dollar question: “All personnel… does anyone have eyes on Supergirl?”

 

 _“Negative_.”

 

The answer echoes from every team. Alex feels her lungs constrict. It’s _no_ and _negative_ and _no_ again, until the first of the freed auditorium hostages reaches C &C and gives an eyewitness account. This student, a tiny and excitable freshman flanked by her mute parents, says the following:

 

“Supergirl yeah she _busted_ out of the **_WALL_** blew through those clowns like Kleenex and they got some shots off but I don’t think they hit her ‘cos she crushed the old man’s violin and maybe broke his jaw and Luthor maced her or something but Supergirl just _slapped_ his nasty _face_ and grabbed him and flew out the front door oh god it was _amazing_ oh my god I love her so much you can’t _sleep_ on **_Supergirl_**!”

 

“She’s an alien. They don’t belong here,” the girl’s father interjects. His voice sounds sleepy as he stares into mid-space.

 

“An alien,” her mother instantly agrees. She replicates her husband’s dull tone and aimless stare. “They shouldn’t be here.”

 

“Stop it, both of you!” The girl rolls her eyes and literally stamps her foot. “You and me and the whole damn school just got _saved_ by an alien, so I’m not here for any of your xenophobic trash because you sound as wack as that creep with the broken fiddle - ”

 

“Enough!” Alex growls, because as entertaining as it may be to hear a pixieish tween drag her bigoted parents, it might take all night for this girl to exhaust her righteous indignation. “Thank you for your help. Please, go with these agents. Now. Please. Thank you.”

 

After confirming the key elements of kid’s story mesh with other hostage accounts, Alex wants to laugh and also wants to scream expletives while emptying her gun into the ground. But at least she can breathe again. Kara seemed to have the situation in hand and she was, on last sighting, alive and well. Which is good, because the next time Alex sees her kid sister she’s definitely going to kick her ass.

 

Winn leans in over Alex’s shoulder. “Did that kid say Kara broke an old man’s violin?”

 

Alex rolls her eyes. “Out of everything she said, _that_ means something to you.”

 

He nods violently. “We gotta find that guy, like, _right now._ ”

 

 

^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^

 

 

Once she’s airborne over National City Magnet with Lex Luthor squirming in her slick red hands, Kara finally realizes she’s injured. Pain tears across her chest. Blood drips down her arm, staining the back of Lex’s cream linen suit. She has to land immediately or they’ll both fall from the sky. In a pinch, she touches down atop the library near the center of campus and tosses Lex roughly onto the tar and gravel surface. He rolls to a stop and lies still, facedown.

 

Kara rocks on her heels and stumbles, sits down hard. Takes a breath that hurts so bad she almost whimpers. She removes the rebreather mask, flicks at her ear and finds her earpiece missing, probably lost in the fight. Checking her phone, she finds it pierced through with shrapnel, broken and useless. She tosses it away.

 

Cut off and alone for the moment, Kara examines her wounds and gently palpates several puncture sites across her chest, caused by frangible Kryptonite rifle rounds that shattered on impact, damaging her shielding and ripping through the super suit. The shrapnel feels like hot coals just below her skin and she’s bleeding freely, unable to heal. If she gets the shards out soon, the wounds won’t be fatal. But she hurts. God, how she hurts.

 

 _Still a pretty good result_ , Kara thinks. She tallies the damage she inflicted and sustained, factors in zero hostage casualties, and deems it a no-brainer exchange, the sort of trade she would gladly make every day. 

 

When Supergirl burst through the auditorium wall, her primary goal was to effect speedy, high-quality violence. She started with the guards closest to the hostages and worked her way around the room, bashing down six before they even reacted, and four more before Lex screamed to open fire. The remaining two Cadmus soldiers went weapons free and Kara raced toward the ceiling to draw their aim away from the captives. Two blasts of heat vision destroyed their rifles and she kicked them hard into a wall.

 

Somewhere in the back of her mind, behind and beneath all the red rage, Kara knows she hit them too hard. Their ribs popped like soap bubbles. 

 

The old hypnotist was next. Break the violin, break his mouth, no more shit-talking about aliens.

 

Then Supergirl turned to face Lex Luthor, with his dark eyes bulging, scalp beading with sweat, fingers frantically clicking his useless K-gas remote trigger. She advanced on him slowly, walked him down across the stage, steady on even as he whipped out a pepper spray-style canister and launched a stream of ionized Kryptonite into her face. Kara felt the gas singe her hairline and forehead, but Lena’s rebreather mask worked perfectly. She batted the canister from Lex’s hand and slapped him very gently across the face, breaking his nose and loosening several teeth.

 

Lex staggered, spat blood at her feet, and smiled. “You, my dear, are unfashionably early,” he said. “But you always were faster than your cousin, may he rest in pieces.”

 

Kara pulled him in by the lapels and whispered in his ear. “Kal survived.” She heard Lex’s heartbeat skip, felt his spine wiggle and melt. She lifted her chin, cocked her head to the side. “Oh, yeah. We’re pretty hard to kill.”

 

Lex glanced down his jacket front, smeared red with Kryptonian blood, and he tittered like a delighted child. “But you’re not invincible.”

 

Still too high on emotion to really feel her own injuries, Kara snatched Lex up by the back of his suit and blew through the front door. Behind her, the freed hostages cheered and applauded. Students shouted her name. The last thing she heard before tuning them out was a chorus of voices chanting for Metropolis, for Superman, young hearts choosing love and rejecting fear.

 

Atop the library, Kara falls back on her elbows and looks to the clear night sky. Somewhere out there, the anemic Corvus constellation limps around LHS 2520 - the life-giving red dwarf star her people worshipped as Rao. Had Krypton survived, Kara thinks she would have been on the same educational and career track as some of those students, keen to unveil the beautiful and elegant underpinnings of the universe. Instead she’s here: wounded and poisoned, 27 million light years from home, alone with a mad genius who spends every waking hour plotting to murder those she loves.

 

She should probably kill him. For Lena. For Kal-El. For the safety of alien citizens, for the safety of humans who welcome and protect star-tossed refugees.

 

Rao help her, Kara is actually considering killing him. But…first things first.

 

Kara draws in air and bucks up her courage. Stifles a scream as she draws down her suit collar. Cries silently as she digs fragments of her dead planet from her bleeding, mortal flesh. She builds a little pile of glowing green thorns, and when the last one is pulled free, she rolls a few feet to the side and tries very hard not to vomit. On hands and knees, she breathes deeply, steadily, and feels her strength begin to rebound. Which is a good thing, because nearby, her mortal enemy is rousing as well.

 

“That’s a nifty little mask,” Lex Luthor says, in a voice like a wrung sponge. He rolls onto his back and props up on his elbows. “Lena’s design?”

 

Kara nods, wipes her tear-stained cheeks with a clean corner of her cape. With a soft grunt, she gets to her feet. “She knows you too well.”

 

“So it seems. A gifted tactician, my sister, quick on the uptake.” Blood drips from his broken nose into his mouth. Lex snorts it back up and spits toward Kara, though it falls well shy of her boots. “Her choice of lovers, however, betrays a certain…self-loathing? I wanna say?”

 

“Haters gonna hate.” Kara gestures pointedly up and down her physique - which, wounds notwithstanding, remains thunderously impressive. “Players gonna play.”

 

Lex surprises her by laughing, a loud and boisterous sound that seems genuine and silly and human. In that moment, Kara sees a flash of Lena’s big brother, the teasing and playful boy who half raised her, who inspired her to achieve, who gave her a sense of place and pride. He loved Lena once. Part of him may still love her.

 

Ultimately, though, that doesn’t matter. What he feels is irrelevant compared to what he does, and Lex Luthor consistently chooses to spread hate and fear and death, and he probably always will.

 

“So, you were going to brainwash all those students, force them to hate aliens,” Kara asks.

 

Lex shrugs. “I saw a shortcut and I went for it. People are on the right path. They’re waking up to the danger posed by your kind. It’s just taking so goddamned long! And, like the song says, I believe the children are our future. I can teach them well and let them lead the way.”

 

“Shut up.” Kara waves a finger of warning. “You don’t get to use Whitney Houston for evil.”

 

“Oh, never! But you see, that’s the crux of our conflict, Supergirl. You view my actions as wicked, but I am merely trying to protect humanity from the tyranny of false gods. How is it evil to safeguard the future of my species?” 

 

“Dude. I’d admire your conviction, if you weren’t completely delusional.” Kara takes a beat, steps close and looks Lex in the eye. “Straight talk: you’re never going to stop, are you?”

 

His mood shifts in an instant. All whimsy vanishes and Lex bares his bloodstained teeth. “You’re gonna have to kill me. And, frankly, I don’t think you’ve got the stones.”

 

Kara shuts her eyes. Tries to find the fuel she’ll need to get this done. She thinks of Lena, of Kal-El, of dead aliens, of terrorized children, and reminds herself that all that pain and fear flows from one common wellspring of misery: Lex Luthor.

 

Red flashes in the darkness, lava roils in her stomach. When Kara opens her eyes, everything is tinged crimson hot.

 

“Hank Henshaw would disagree with you. He can’t, though, because I cracked open his skull and scooped out about sixty percent of his brains. They told me he didn’t die, but I’m not a complete idiot. I killed that man. And he deserved it.”

 

Kara inhales, calm and still, and advances on Lex Luthor. She lifts him by the arms and stands him up like a child posing an action figure. Lex swallows hard, firms his jaw in a show of defiance. Kara knows better; she smells panicked sweat and traces of urine, hears his fitful heartbeat and shallow breathing.

 

He’s frightened now. This is the correct response.

 

“Lillian would disagree with you,” Kara continues. “But Lena knocked her off of a skyscraper because your mother was trying to kill me.”

 

“You’re lying,” Lex grits out. “Lena would never - ”

 

“For me, she would. For me, she did. And for her, I would…” Kara pauses, sighs, shakes her head. “Well. You’ll find out.”

 

“No! Wait!”

 

She thumps him on the forehead with approximately 1,800 newtons of force. Lex slumps in her arms and they float up, up, and away.

 

 

^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^

 

 

Lena drives north, past the flashing lights of ambulances and squad cars marking the Nat City Magnet perimeter, to a ridge overlooking campus. Through L-Corp’s newly patented digital monocular, she witnesses the DEO teams disperse, sees the hostages file out of the auditorium, and - after several frantic scans - locates Supergirl and Lex Luthor on the library roof. Both are alive, both are bloodstained. That’s all she can make out from this extreme distance.

 

She checks her phone and finds a strong signal, so she dials Kara just in case she has her phone tucked into her boot; the call rings through to voicemail. She texts her: _Are you okay?_ and receives no reply. She stares for several seconds, but the message remains marked as unread.

 

“They’re two-point-four clicks out,” Lena whispers to her companion. “Can you make that work?”

 

Deadshot looks incredulous. “Does a one-legged duck swim in circles?” He lowers his mask, assembles his rifle, drives a knife into a tree at shoulder height and steadies the fore-end atop the blade’s blunt spine. After surveying the scene through his scope, he notes that Lex appears to be unconscious. “Dude won’t even know what hit him.”

 

“Wait,” Lena says. She inhales slowly, exhales steady. Her heart is not racing. She is calm and deliberate and resigned to this course of action. “I’ll say when.”

 

She calls Alex next.

 

_“This is not a good time, Lena -”_

 

“Supergirl and Lex are on the library roof,” Lena blurts.

 

_“On the - where the hell are you, Luthor?”_

 

She checks the scene again and is dismayed to see that her brother is awake. “Lex is sitting down. She’s standing. They both appear to be wounded.”

 

Alex mutters a string of hardcore curses and re-tasks a team toward the library. _“Okay. Good thing I brought her trauma kit. What are they doing up there?”_

 

Lena sees Kara gesturing with her hands, sees Lex’s head tip back in laughter - a sight so familiar, once so beloved, she feels tears prickle behind her eyes. “They’re talking.”

 

_“Talking.”_

 

“That’s what I said.”

 

_“Why would she be talking to Lex?”_

 

“For fuck’s sake, Alex, I don’t know!”

 

The sudden tension inspires a silence, which stretches on just long enough for the rooftop confab to implode. Kara lifts Lex to his feet, strikes him, and -

 

“Now or never, Luthor,” Deadshot says. “I have it locked. Make the call.”

 

_“Lena? What’s happening?”_

 

Kara turns Lex’s back to her chest, loops her arm around his waist, and -

 

“They’re leaving, Luthor. Make the damn call.”

 

_“Talk to me, Lena!”_

 

Lena is virtually catatonic as she witnesses events transpire from this great distance. She takes in the determined set of Kara’s spine, her deliberate stride, the measured blow and the gentle levitation. Lena knows what’s about to happen.

 

Kara has decided to - 

 

“Take the shot,” she says.

 

 

><

 

 


End file.
